My Routine and Viagra

March 26th, 2010: I sit here writing a post in my blog because the heat has beat me into hidding along with the cockroaches and the lazy cat that doesnt seem to move on the bed below me. I feel as if I have been in the Ciudad Bolivar long enough to have an opportunity to build somewhat of a routine the past few days as I wait for my 5 day trip on the Caura River which is starts on Sunday. Since I dont have much to write about except for some peacefully boring protest, I decided to extend my bordem to you letting you get a glimpse of my daily routine I created in this city.

If you continue to read from here on...I feel sorry for you that you have nothing better to do than to read the rest of this post. That is okay though...sometime life is not that interesting even if you look at it with your eyes wide open. But if you squint a little itsee bit, analyze things a little itsee bit more and begin to question the things around you...just a little itsee bit, almost anything can be interesting...except for this routine of mine you are or are not about to read.

I just figured that people can write the most ridiculous posts on Facebook and if people are actually interested in that someone is going to the store or such things as this...just maybe...just maybe, this will to date, be one of my most captivating posts for my readers.

My Routine:
630am: Wake up

700am: Float around the kitchen waiting for the coffee to be made

710am: Ask for a cup in my broken spanish, avoiding having to buy the high priced breakfast

715am: Eat a package of crackers and drink my free cup of coffee for breakfast

720am: When the staff is not looking, get a refill on the coffee

725am: Repeat last entree, refilling my coffee

830am: Walk to main park (Plaza Bolivar) and people watch

1030am: Walk to woman who sells ice cold slushes and practice spanish while consuming a beverage

1040am: Walk 45 minutes to..."a" restaurant to get my excersise for the day

1115am: Order by the numbers and happily eat lunch that I no longer need to order in a box

1200pm: People watch in the fine airconditioned eating establishment and study spanish

130pm: Walk 45 minutes back to main park or river and continue pushing my peripheral vision to its limits people watching and studying spanish

430pm: Go to river or main park after purchasing 1.5 liter of Pepsi and people watch, handing out soda to anyone who asks as I practice my spanish with them

545pm: Walk to main park or river and people watch

615pm: Go back to posada and eat some crackers for dinner telling myself that tommorrow I need to not eat lunch soo early

620pm: Finish consuming my now flat soda if any is left

645pm: Sign onto internet accounts and check Facebook, Hotmail and blog for any emails or comments

646pm: Refresh Facebook and Hotmail and for any new emails or comments

647pm: Repeat previous entry thinking that the computer is blocking almost all my emails except for the junk mail and my supposed need for Viagra

648pm: Repeat previous entry, clicking on my refresh button...again ignoring any new Viagra emails

649pm: Curse Facebook, Hotmail and my Blog

650pm: Refresh Facebook, Hotmail and blog for any new emails or comments

651pm: Refresh Facebook, Hotmail and blog for any new emails or comments before signing out and thinking...do I need Viagra?

652pm: Sign out of accounts

653pm: Sign back in accounts just in case someone on Facebook, Hotmail or my blog sent me any new emails or comments right before signing out

654pm: Sign back out of accounts and continue to curse...Facebook, Hotmail and my Blog

655pm: Read a sappy girl book I was given and study spanish, forgetting almost everything on what I learned today in spanish and what I read yesterday in my book

1000pm: Beginning to think that I am a goldfish and have no memory

1001pm: Look at travel book and try to think how I am going to complete my explorations in less than 286 months (for the mothers out there who like to calculate years into months)

1008am: Tell myself I will take it day by day and when I feel I am done traveling, I will stop traveling, planning only one country at a time or maybe just two not the entire world

300am: Wake up fully clothed in with book open and a trail of drool steaming down on the side of my face

304am: Take a shower

306am: Brush my teeth

311am: Get back into bed or the hammock

630am: Repeat cycle

MENTAL NOTE: This must be how it is when you retire except that I must add in lots of sudden naps, TV reruns and many visits to the local coffee shop so that I can perfect the art of flirting with the waitress. And now, I will finally be greatful for the junk mail...pushing Viagra.

When there is a string...

March 23, 2010: When there is a string...use it. This was my little life lesson today as I was sitting on the toilet on a large outdoor balcony with the wooden full length shutters used for doors. It was facing the bunk beds and hammocks...so when a big gust of wind came tearing though the courtyard, so did the door...tearing wide open. Sitting there where all could see (but lucky for me, didn't) I shot up very quickly in a crouched fashion closing the shutters and now...using that string, tying the knobs together. So, when there is a string...use it.

4x4 tour of the Gran Sabana

March 22nd, 2010: The past 4 days I have been in the depths of the Gran Sabana on a excellent 4x4 tour. The company I was with sells itself on being an adrenaline tour. This is definitely true, especially when my guide tossed my camera containing over 1,500 photos that were not backed up over to our driver - NOT our major league baseball player, who was standing on top of one of a the waterfalls we were climbing so it wouldn't get wet. In slow motion I saw what was taking place, as I froze unable to say anything, watching it fly through the air as if it was floating...so...so very slowly. Overall the trip was quite exciting as we climbed up/down/around/in back and in front of the waterfalls that hid deep in the Sabana.

At night we would ride on the roof rack on top of the Land Cruiser looking at the stars as the drinking quickly doubled the amount of stars and somehow transformed us contestants on the TV program, dancing with the stars. When the Land Cruiser stopped, we would turn the road or roof into a modified dance floor whether in the middle of the highway or far back off the main road down the dirt tracks. On this roof is where I was given some free salsa classes. The only thing that I had to pay was close attention to every time I placed down my foot - to keep my foot from falling between the gaps on the rack...which would certainly mean a trip to the doctors - from the fall, or from my driver after he saw the damage I made to his vehicle.

Looking at my dance instructor who was a local, I had to smile...thinking that I will never understand fashion as she earlier in the day purposely pried her shorts open forgetting the purpose of a zipper and a button - fortunately she didn't forget the use of a belt as that was the only thing fastened. Strange looking...but fashionable to her and maybe to this region I suppose.

The following night my salsa instructor was a Russian woman with some great skills making me feel like I knew what I was doing. A bit confident...too confident, I tried to dance with her one friend, the Russian Jumping Bean. Quickly my confidence was killed as she would defy the law of gravity and the relativity of motion and physics (maybe...I really don't know the laws and other complicated stuff such as this, it just sounded right) somehow spinning the complete opposite way I was trying to spin her as she continuously sprung in the air over twice her height.

During the daylight hours the dancing didn't stop. Instead of salsa we quite successfully performed with style and grace the puri puri (biting fly) dance with our hands slapping ourselves and legs quickly moving in no specified motion. I must say, this dance is almost as easy as the funky chicken but much more pleasant to watch and for surely more enjoyable than the dreadfully Acky Breaky Heart dance by Billy Ray Cyrus - I truly HATE that dance!!!!

Our guide, was great. He liked to drink straight out of the two liter bottles as the backwash would flow right back in breaking off the debris in his stained teeth making the drink not just a drink but also a snack. Not to mention that his bathing suit...in typical Colombian fashion it is his underwear. Thank goodness it was black because after 4 days the sight might have been even more unbearable than it already was. It seems as if he had every job in the world...from being a dentist, to a restaurant owner, hotel owner, truck driver, factory owner, a mass murderer and the list goes on. With how comfortable he was walking around in his tight womanlike underwear...he might have even been a male dancer, but this he did not admit to, nor did I ask.

The driver was really helpful to everyone at first, but after a short period of time he had no interest in helping the men under the waterfalls or other such objects. He was so into paying such special attention to the needs of the women it was unbelievable. I think the tummy rubs and the c-cup grab from behind so a woman could be lifted up onto a potentially dangerous rock was very thoughtful. I never thought a woman's or man boobs are multi-purpose objects that can be used for handles.

The rats seemed to have a stronghold on the kitchen in the village we were staying. In the evening they would sprint and jump around the kitchen as if they were performing time trials for an upcoming track and field event. The overweight spectators would look at us from above with their eye peering from the grassy roof top.

The last day of the trip there was a storm system was sweeping across the Sabana so instead of walking along a potentially hazardous canyon...we went to Brazil for lunch and spent some time explore the boarder town, which took...minutes. Since it was Sunday, most people don't work on this day except for the poor restaurant and hotel employees, which I will say this again...is great - minus the hotel and restaurant employees that is.

I am leaving another great Venezuelan town tonight heading for a larger place named Ciudad Bolivar - which I am told has a McDonald's. I am hoping my bus ride is quicker that it was to this destination. I am a bit tired and frustrated from the extremely slow internet connection making it almost impossible to do anything and would like a nice rest in the ice box which is known as a bus in Latin America.

Strange pet

March 15th, 2010: I was invited to a friends place to see his strange pet. He has one horse (not so strange), a cow (also not so strange) and some animal that looks like an super small elephant with a short trunk or snout (very strange). Since my friend wasn't there when we arrived, we walked in and it came quickly toward me. Not sure what it was going to do, I was scared it was going to bite me because it was making a strange noise as he lifted his head opening his mouth showing me his dirty teeth. After taking a quick photo I dashed towards this piece of farm equipment to separate us. We soon became friends after feeding him a couple of giant bread rolls, satisfying his appetite and thankfully losing interest in consuming one of my few appendages.

Life around the Gran Sabana

March 14, 2010: Today was a most excellent day as I sat behind the wheel of a Toyota Land Cruiser flying at times and crawling at others attempting to clear the obstacles and keep up with a woman that must have been driving in the back of this hills for over half her life. Yes, she was good and I was...less good. We were on our way down to pick up all of the paragliders who left the hilltop.

When I was asked to drive, I casually said yes, but inside I was...YES! It has been 11 months since I drove a vehicle and I cant remember the last time I drove a manual. As for driving off road, it has been over 15 years since I drove in this sort of terrain in a proper vehicle - my cars do not count because I pretended they were meant to go places where at times, obviously weren't.

The past few days I have been hanging out with a group of locals who belong to a paragliding club. It has been a lot of fun just sitting around the hills far out of town and learning about all the information the clouds and eagles can tell us about the wind. They also let me strap into a paraglider as I would try to pull it up - not fly, just learning to control it before you take off. This bored me considerably but I did it anyhow not wanting to offend anybody. The more I learned about paragliding the more complicated it seemed. Skydiving seems so much easier - I suppose it is because you are falling and not gliding or at times flying.

In a few days, I decided to save a bit of my money and do a little bit of work writing up a piece on a tour company for a 3 day Gran Sabana tour. This company sells themselves as being an adrenaline tour. I am not sure how much adrenalin can be injected into my system on a Gran Sabana tour but I am off to see if this is false advertisement...or not.

Trek to Hell

March 12th, 2010: I never thought taking a trip to hell could be as simple as paying some nominal fee. I even thought I had to do something bad or not so good lots and lots of times to make it here. But I guess if you can go to space for millions why not hell? Taking a 6 day trek up to the top of what I indentify as hell is the table top mountain of Roraima. Making it to hell is actually much worse than being there...that is if you like tons of grey rocks.

Yes, the top was grey...very...grey with a bunch of exciting puddles that lost its excitement after 7 hours of jumping from stone to stone which eventually turned into walking in them due to my ability to jump gradually decreased as the day went on. Animals and plants can be quite spectacular with its ability to live up here. The top of Roraima was huge! From the bottom it looked small but that was definitely not the case. Exploring the top for a few days let me appreciate the area much more. Watching the clouds claw the top as they would sprint along the surface along with the views from the edge of the cliff seeing the other table top mountains, towering waterfalls that would form after heavy rainfall and the Gran Sabana seemed as if I was in some sort of dream - I am glad this sort of dream was not one that I thought I could fly.

On my visit to Roraima I was fortunate enough to run into swarms of biting flies (Jejenes) that I truly enjoyed killing - I hated them so much I would have torn leg by leg off if they were big enough and not felt a bit or remorse. The bathing situation was only for those with some sort of medical condition that they could not feel the knife like pain in the frigid water, but there was one body of water which was unfortunately guarded by those dang biting flies, making my wash time minimal. This was a good thing because in some bathing areas there was a large number of male ball washers...nothing wrong with cleaning the twins but only if the body of water was bigger than a large jacuzzi, but...it wasn't.

I am happy to say that the mafia did not "eliminate" (knife motion going across the throat) my czech acquaintances. Hearing about a "crazy guy" sighting the night before from my group members...I laughed and told them it was probably the czech guy I met when they described a guy walking around the campsite in only his tight white underwear with his backpack on supporting bright red legs from all the exposed skin to the sun - clearly needing some classes in the advantages of clothing. Seeing him in the morning, I said hi to them as my group seemed startled I was talking to him, later telling them that he was the czech man I told them about.

As the cold nights set in on top of Roraima, at around 8pm I would call it bed time. I would climb in my sleeping bag I was given by the tour company overflowing from the top since I have a feeling this was made for small children's slumber parties, not camping. Being creative, I modified my CLEAN boxer briefs into a hat which I only wore in the confines of my wretched smelling tent from the socks I managed to wear for almost 12 days straight (I am so proud). These were the days I was glad to be sleeping alone in my tent for two.

The toilet situation...was interesting. From the holes being dug at lower elevations and the plastic baggy that was to be held against the cheeks on top (to later be carried down by a man with one of the worse jobs in the entire world) they both would have been humiliating moments if someone came up from over the hill or around the corner as I squatted like a girl. But as I squatted my fear subsided as I would have spectacular views of the milky way and shooting stars making these deposits the most scenic that I can recall.

Even though at times I would not be able to walk a straight line, staggering...I made it. The sense of accomplishment I had once crawling into the parking lot was extremely rewarding. Next trip....Machu Picchu - or maybe not - a bus to the top doesn't seem bad to me at the moment as I sit in the comforts of the internet cafe. Maybe my memory will fail me and I will forget how I straggled behind most of the others by 30 minutes to an hour.

The day I saved $12.50

March 5th, 2010: After 12 hours of rolling my backpack around the bus terminal and people watching, I ended up not being able to get a ticket out of the bus station for Santa Elena. This was not because of the Mafia...just me being picky about getting an earlier bus and my inability to purchase a bus ticket in time. Not wanting to stay in Cuidad Guyana for the night, feeling it would have be a wasted day, I went along with this older woman on a bus who told me I could transfer 4 hours away in a town on the way to my final destination.

Getting dropped off on a dimly lit street in Tumeremo...at midnight. I sat on the streets joining the other 20 or so people also waiting for a bus to Santa Elena. Some individuals made the sidewalk their beds as others joined in on my 12:00am English class that lasted until about 430am. Buses would come through the town along with the drunks originating from some unknown location but neither would stop, some going faster than others. Thinking that I was never going to leave this town, the taxis started showing up circling us with their wrecks, trying to legally stealing from us charging outrageous rates to get us to our destinations. I had an advantage because I had all night, now becoming all morning and was not willing to pay the $12.50 more to go by cab than by bus.

Around 4:30am a jeep passed through town stopping when someone waved him down. Two people jumped into the car as others made a dash for the windows as if there was a natural disaster and he was issuing food. Beating them with my speed by 0.0002 seconds, I was pointed out giving me permission to enter his vehicle, hitching a ride for the same price as a bus...saving me $12.50. Finally after around 23 hours, I was on my way to Santa Elena.

Please note that the saving $12 was not just to save money but to not let money separate me from those I was with for the evening who didnt have it. I did not want to be the american with the money to just pay myself out of a bad situation when most of those I was with couldnt.

Paranoid Czechs go into hiding from the mafia

March 4th, 2010: Traveling with others you don't know very well can be sort of entertaining and at times...short lived. The next time I wait a few days for someone, I must make sure I talk with them for more than 20 minutes. Take for instance my experience today at the bus station with my new friends from the Czech Republic.

Taking a three hour taxi ride to a town to transfer to a bigger bus, we purchased a ticket which we ended up returning for some strange reason and sat around to wait for another departure.

Two hours into our wait, my Czech friend Susan sort of saved me from this awkward situation I got myself into when I was practicing my spanish with these three women - who after an hour, told me they wanted to make babies with me and one of them even threw in that she wanted to go to Las Vegas. Susan comes barreling up to me, barking in broken english, "We need to get out here now!" She continues, "The mafia controls this place and they are not letting us leave!" as she panics. And the paranoia keeps rolling out of her mouth..."Cant you see! Don't you know anything about the mafia in the US?!!!" I told her we had gangsters as I laughed.

Susan seemed as if she just injected a whole vial or some illegal narcotics straight into her heart or secretly consumed a six-pack of Red Bull. Her words were so fast I seemed to understand czech more than english at that moment.

"It is not safe and we need to get out of here quickly. They are going to eliminate us (simulating a knife across the throat). We stand out and it is bribery - you do know what bribery is!?" Susan snaps at me. "They just sold us bad tickets and keep changing time and I don't trust them. We go!"

Telling her that I was going to stay at the bus station she was shocked telling me, "You are not going with us? Why?" I questioned how they were bad tickets if we just got our money back. Susan said, "We got our money back to silence us and keep us quite. We exposed them and they will get us. They keep changing the departure time to keep us here, cant you see this!"

I let my czech friends go and get a hotel room to go into hiding from the mafia. Her husband was pretty quiet on the matter. I think Susan wears the pants, underwear and condom in the relationship. That must be the reason he was walking around the hotel in speedo like underwear - she is wearing the boxers and he is wearing the panties. If anything I was in more danger with them around as the stood next to me in their shorts and money holder swinging outside their clothes. No wonder why they were robbed in Caracas.

So, I now wait at the station with no tent and equipment for my upcoming trek. I decided early this morning that I wasnt going with them anyhow - they are going to do the trek in two days (12 hours up and 10 hours down) when I want to do it in no less than six. This sort of changes my plans so I will have to figure something else out. I might have anywhere from a 10 to 14 hour layover so I have plenty of time. I have not yet purchased my ticket because as she said...the mafia is keeping me here - laughing. It is nice not having any time constraints. If I get a bus out of here tonight, I do...if I don't, I will tomorrow - it will all work itself out.

The Orinoco Delta...where anything can happen.

March 2, 2010: I just got back from a successful trip deep into the Orinoco Delta for 3 days...where anything can happen. Yes, anything...such as a woman trying to get with me as she was in a drunken state with her boob hanging out flapping around as a three month old baby was attached to the tip. Standing inches away from me as she looked up to talk...it felt extremely awkward as I keep trying to step back. Besides seeing a random boob, I saw pink dolphins, parrots, monkeys, sloths and a jumping spider...on my hand. I was a bit too close to the spider as I attempted to take a macro shot of it, first jumping on the camera and then on me right after I quickly put the camera on the ground as I couldn't shake him free. As if I wasn't human, my hand moved faster than the human eye could see, as I violently shook it off.

The people in this region lives in dried leafed roofed shelters on stilts along the delta sleeping in hammocks. The older people believed in clothes and the New York Yankee by looking at their hats and the kids believed in the art of streaking. The delta seems to provide for the people who seem to almost have nothing materialistically. It was their bath, toilet and a place to catch fish in this gigantic toilet to feed their families and tourists. My spanish skills were put to the test the past few days as nobody spoke english where I was staying. So if I was to be graded...I received an D- (or a 1.0).

On the delta, I caught my first fish in years right off the dock that I just bathed in and performed my first aqua deuce (it was either while in the water of from above in a wooden shack on stilts that rested in the water with two slits for two people to either face each other or in case someone makes a mess and misses I suppose). The fish I caught was small but it was a piranha - so the size doest really matter to me. It also doesn't matter that I didn't want to touch it as it smiled at me waiting for my fingers to get close to its pearly whites. Not wanting to risk it I had assistance to remove the hook embedded in its lower lip as it continued to smile waiting for the moment someone made the slightest mistake.

One afternoon, coming back to the house after a relaxing swim I saw in the kitchen a bowl filled with legs and heads. We were having turtle soup for lunch. I am glad I did not see the execution of these harmless creature that were too slow to escape the executioner. Eating it - one tiny bite of the grey foot with the little toes pointing at me...and one bite of some unknown part, I was done. It wasn't bad tasting but I was not hungry enough to eat a turtle. To easily get out of not eating the rest I lied and rubbed my stomach simulating that I wasn't feeling well - which somehow eliminated me from dinner and instead they gave me Jello.

I will be leaving for Santa Elene de Uairen in 2 days. This town is on the boarder of Brazil (which I am not allowed to enter at the time due to not having a visa). I met this nice Czech couple the other day and they are also going that way, having space for me in their tent for about a 6 day trek up to the top of one of the mountains. It will be nice to travel with someone for a few days but I am bit concerned about her husband who seems to like to walk around the hotel in his speedo like underwear. I will suggest that in the tent that his wife sleeps in the middle for my own safety and well being.